Silver Linings
by Saranwyn
Summary: Songfic to Silver Linings by Hurts. Roy meets Edward, a new recruit for the army during the War of Ishvalan Extermination. Edward is a troubled, young boy with a dark past. Can the two save each other? RoyEd if you REALLY squint. Rated T for dark themes, innuendo, and a tiny bit of language.
1. Ishval

Hey, I forgot I couldn't post the lyrics. Oh well, just listen to the song and imagine it playing behind the fic! ;)

* * *

Edward Elric stared at his toes, his automail hand curled into a fist, the other clutching his pocket watch. His hair, silk-spun sunlight, had been plaited back to keep it out of the way, but two, long strands in the front stubbornly refused to stay out of his face. Swallowing hard, he made his way through the military camp, headed to his tent. He tapped on the flap before entering. His sponsor, the man who was supposed to show him the ropes of living in the military, was already there. Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. It was said he could control fire through Alchemy – Edward figured that it could be possible. After all, he could perform Alchemy without a transmutation circle. Coal-black hair hung messily in his face obscured obsidian black eyes that now locked with Edward's own, golden gaze momentarily before dragging heavily up and down his body.

"I didn't know the army was accepting minors, now," was the first comment past Roy's lips. Edward's eyes searched to look at anything but the man appraising him. "I'm Major Roy Mustang – you must be Edward Elric – you're a Major too, right?"

"Yeah, the Fullmetal Alchemist," Edward replied as boldly as he could. He went and sat down on his bedroll.

"Yeah, I was told about you – no transmutation circle, eh?"

"Yeah, I just…form a circle…with my hands…" Edward explained. Roy's brows furrowed. "So, what do I call you?"

"Flame is fine, and I'll call you Fullmetal."

"Fine." He lied down and closed his eyes. _Al…I'm sorry,_ he whispered, thinking back to the note he'd left on the table for his brother to find. That had been three months ago, when he'd first left his home in Resembool.

_Alphonse,_ it read. _I'm sorry to not have discussed this decision with you or even informed you of it. I'm sorry for not saying goodbye, but it's my fault that you lost your body, so I've gone to get it back for you. The military offers a lot of research opportunities to State Alchemists, so I've gone to join the army. I know you'll be upset when you read this, but my mind is made up. I don't know where I'll be placed, but know that I'll always be thinking of you. I cannot explain how horrible I feel for pushing you to participate in my transgression in an attempt to bring back our mother. I will not forgive myself until you have your body back as you rightfully deserve. Please don't worry about me, either. I won't let myself die until I have given you back what my foolishness took from you. Also, do not try to find me and persuade me to come back – I will not return until you are no longer confined to that suit of armor. My mind is made up, so you won't convince me otherwise._

_ -Edward Elric_

He had slipped away well before dawn, caught a train to Central City, and taken the State Alchemist Exam. Because he could perform Alchemy without a transmutation circle, something he'd gained when he'd attempted to perform human transmutation, when his brother had lost his body, he had passed and become a State Alchemist. Then, he'd been sent to Ishval, to participate in the war. Moral reservations aside, Edward had vowed to get his brother's body back using any means necessary. Even if that meant taking part in a war that was more like an extermination. These people were all going to die anyways. If it was by his hand, that was a necessary sacrifice…right?

* * *

Roy watched the boy sharing his tent with a sort of intensity that surprised even him. He was so young, and yet he looked so broken. Broken not only in his body, with two automail limbs – broken in spirit. Worry lines etched across his face, his lips curved into a permanent frown, his brows furrowed deeply even in his sleep. So young to have joined the army. He couldn't be older than sixteen. He was little more than a child. So…so young. For some reason, Roy's mind fixated on that, clinging to it. Driving him to protect the boy in any way he knew how. Never before had Mustang felt such compassion, such sympathy. But these feelings drove him to demand why. Why would someone so young do something like this?

"Al!" the boy cried out in his sleep. This was almost a nightly occurrence, as the past two weeks had proved. Roy crawled over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No! Al! Mother! **AL**!" Roy shook harder and Edward's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in a deep, sharp gasp. His wide, gold eyes stared up at Roy for a long, agonizing moment, then they flitted down his hands. "Did I wake you up?" Edward asked at length.

"No."

"Oh."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." The boy took a deep breath. "Forty-two." Roy didn't need to ask what the number meant. It was the death count. The number he'd killed in that week. Six people a day – not a bad record compared to Roy's. Of course, Edward did hand-to-hand combat whereas Roy specialized in mass destruction. "What about you?" The Flame Alchemist pressed his lips together.

"I try not to count," he lied. He counted every single one he could. It was hard, when you were burning buildings, but he had a pretty good idea.

"Estimate." Never before had Edward asked for him to give him a body-count. "I…I want to know." _We all want a lot of things,_ Roy reasoned. _That doesn't mean we get them._ Yet he found himself giving the number anyways.

"Fifty…" he began. Ed nodded, but then he finished his count. "Just today." The boy stared, his lips parted in a subtle gasp.

"Oh," he whispered after a stretch of silence. Roy met his eyes and held his gaze. "I'm sorry." Mustang sighed and looked away, not sure if he was glad or not that Edward had broken the silence. He stood up and went back to his bedroll, twisting the ring on his finger. It was a simple gold band with a red stone in it, worn on his forefinger. The military had given it to him to increase the power of his Alchemy. With it, he could raze whole villages in a day or so. Just like his white, Ignition Gloves, with transmutation circles stitched onto the back in red thread, he never removed the ring. It was a form of a reminder of what he was doing. He refused to forget the faces of those he killed. He would not turn his back on his deeds, no matter how much they disgusted him.

"Get some sleep. You'll need it," he grumbled at last before lying down to go to sleep, himself. Edward glanced back at him. _Fifty,_ he mused. _Fifty a day…how does that man live with himself? Maybe that's why he always seems so unhappy. I wonder…why he's in the military at all. A brilliant Alchemist like him could've done a lot of things in life…_He closed his eyes, willing the nightmares away.

* * *

"Fullmetal!" Roy's voice called out a warning. Edward spun around – late, the gun went off and the bullet hit his shoulder. As the gun went off, again, a large, heavy body collided with him, forcing them both to the ground and to safety. "Are you okay, Fullmetal?" Edward forced his eyes open and nodded. Roy snapped and his gloves created a small spark which caught and twisted around them protectively, writhing in the air like a snake, threatening to instantaneously reduce anything it touched to ash. It died away as Roy picked up Edward, looking around for a way to safety. He snapped again, bringing up another protective barrier from the approaching Ishvalans. "Looks like they've cut off our way off." Snap. "Give me a minute to figure something out." Snap. "Here, this way." Snap." The flames billowed larger than before, allowing them to make a run it. They made it to a little cabin that was halfway burned down but still enough to provide some cover.

"We can probably hold out here until sunrise when the next wave comes," Roy muttered, his eyes scanning the area quickly. "Now, let's see about that shoulder of yours." Now that they were no longer in immediate danger, the full force of Edward's guilt hit him. They were in this situation because of him. Because he'd been careless. And now they both were in danger.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as the man set to removing his jacket and shirt.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry…for causing you trouble and…I mean…putting you in this situation."

"You didn't. I could've left you."

"But you didn't." Roy hummed his agreement.

"I'm going to have to get this bullet out." He flicked out his knife. "This is going to hurt….a lot." Edward nodded as the man snapped to run a flame along the blade before beginning to dig the bullet out.

"AH!" the blonde cried out, his head falling forward onto Roy's shoulder and his legs curling in. It was all he could do to force himself not the yank away. Some rocks unfortunate enough to be near his automail hand were grabbed and crushed while his other hand clutched at the other man's jacket.

"Almost there. Just hang on a moment more…" Clink. The bullet hit the ground and Roy's knife withdrew. "I'm going to seal the wound and then I'm done, okay?" Edward nodded, bracing himself. Snap. Flames seared the injury shut, tearing another scream from the younger boy. Tears sprung to his eyes and spilled out over his cheeks, but he quickly choked them down. "There we go…" Edward placed the cool metal of his left hand to the burn, soothing it. "You okay?" Roy asked.

"Y-yeah…thanks to you."

"Ah, you'd have been fine." Roy sat back against the wall, his eyes falling shut as Edward put back on his shirt and military jacket, wincing. They lapsed into silence as they bunkered down for a long, restless night. Darkness descended upon them slowly, and once it was fully dark, the stillness came. No more straggling voices, murmuring in Ishvalan, no footsteps seeking them out. Just emptiness and the chill of a autumn evening.

"Why are you here?" Edward asked after about two hours of silence. His voice jolted Roy from his deep contemplation.

"Hm?"

"In the military, I mean. You don't have to tell me, but I just thought….I don't know," he trailed off pitifully at the end.

"It's fine. I joined the military thinking I'd be helping people. I didn't…well…I didn't expect this." The Flame Alchemist laughed bitterly. "Well, it's not like my master didn't warn me. I just didn't listen. I figure…now…I've just got to change things. And I'll do what it takes – even if it means doing all this…to get to place where I can stop this kind of thing from happening, again." There was a long pause as Edward took in his words. _What kind of a sad life is that? I mean…he must be so…disillusioned…like when we failed to bring mom back…_ "What about you? You're the one that really has no place here, after all." Edward hesitated. "You don't have to." _Well, he told me…_

"No…I'll tell you. After all, maybe…maybe it's better to tell someone. When I was eleven, and my younger brother Alfonse was ten, our mother died. Our father was the sort of walk-away-without-a-single-word type, I guess, so he'd left almost a year prior – not that he'd ever been home much." Edward didn't even try to keep the venom out of his voice as he explained. "Anyways, I studied Alchemy and when I was sixteen, I tried…to bring our mother back. Al didn't want to, but I pushed him into it, anyways, and in the process…he lost his whole body. I managed to bind his soul to a suit of armor – that's what cost me my arm and my leg. So I swore that I would do whatever it takes to get my brother his body back. I know that the military gives funding and resources to State Alchemists, so I joined." Mustang listened to his whole story without a word of input, and afterwards, he didn't say anything for a long time. When he did speak, it wasn't scornful or disgusted or disturbed, even.

"That must have been very hard. You are strong to have decided to make such a choice. Does your brother know…that you're here?"

"He knows I joined the army, he doesn't know…what I've been doing or where I am though." Mustang nodded.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No…I don't think I will."

"He won't understand…how you've changed…why you've changed." Edward nodded pensively.

"But knowing what I did wouldn't make him understand how I've changed either. It would simply let him know why."

"I suppose that's true."

"Do you have anyone at home…waiting for you to get back?"

"Yeah, his name is Maes Hughes. We were in training together, but he asked for a desk job. His last letter said he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel."

"Wow. Do you miss him?"

"I don't do sappy stuff like that." Silence. "But yeah…I miss him. You miss your brother?"

"Mhm. And I worry…about never seeing him again." Roy's hand came down on Edward's metal shoulder.

"You will see him, again. I promise." Edward flushed slightly. _Why would he say something like that…make such a promise? To me? __**How**__ can he promise such a thing?_ But he found himself nodded, transfixed by the man's deep, serious onyx eyes. Roy slid his arms around Edward's waist and hugged him, pulling him practically into his lap. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep." Edward closed his eyes, leaning his head against the other man's warm, broad chest. Roy stared down at the sleeping face of the boy in his arms. He felt his heart go out to him in a way that was completely foreign to him. Sighing, he rested his cheek on Edward's head and listened to the deafening silence all around them.

* * *

Morning came without Roy ever waking Edward up. He was used to the occasional all-nighter and Edward had been positively exhausted. In fact, even once morning came, Roy couldn't bring himself to wake the boy so he just settled down with him in his arms to wait to be found hopefully by friendly forces.

The sounds of war woke Edward with a start. He jolted, struggling momentarily against the sinewy arms around him. Then he remembered where he was and why and just whose arms were around him and he stilled. Slowly, it occurred to him that he'd slept the entire night.

"You didn't wake me," he noted. Roy nodded but did not release him. "Why?"

"You needed the sleep. It's fine." Part of Edward informed him that he should really get off this poor man's lap, because his legs were probably starting to go numb, and it wasn't exactly appropriate for him – a sixteen-year-old to be cuddled up in his arms like that. However, the rest of him kicked that part of him in the stomach and shoved it aside. He was incredibly comfortable where he was, and if Roy minded, he'd just push him away, right?

"How long before you think someone finds us?"

"I'd give it an hour tops. If no one finds us, we only have a few more hours before this town is completely empty and it will be safe to come out." Edward nodded and nestled his head lower under Roy's chin. It had been so long, since he'd been able to lean on anyone. An hour later, they were indeed discovered by the army and taken back to camp.


	2. Central City

"Oy! Mustang! Over here!" Maes Hughes called, waving a hand over his head to be seen in the crowded train station. The man had short, neat black hair which was kept slicked back away from his warm, brown eyes over which set a small, square set of glasses. Those were new, but other than that, nothing had changed about his old friend. Roy made his way to him and let himself be hugged fiercely. His eyes sought for Edward but the boy had already escaped into the busy streets of Central City. "How are you?" Maes asked, releasing Roy.

"Fine," came the soldier's automatic reply. "How are you?"

"Great, thanks. Oh, and I guess you haven't heard yet. I'm just Colonel, now, got promoted again!"

"Ooh, so I can drop the Lieutenant in favor of just plain Colonel? Aren't you something, climbing the ladder like that?" Roy teased, ruffling the other man's hair.

"You make any friends?" Roy hesitated. Friends…Edward Elric…Fullmetal…his only friend during his time in the war. The only one he'd ever confided in. The only one he'd let touch his heart.

"…No, not really. We were busy. Have you met anyone you like?" He mostly zoned out as they headed to the car and Maes chattered on and on about the different people he'd met. Most people thought Roy disliked Maes's incessant babbling, but it was actually quite the opposite. Roy liked to listen, even if he didn't listen that intently, even if he let it just become background noise, he liked having that voice there, never prying too deeply into his life, just going on about something trivial. It gave him a good excuse not to say anything. It was one of the reasons Roy liked Maes. They got in the car and the younger man suddenly realized his friend wasn't paying an ounce of attention to what he was saying. Coming to a natural close, he stopped talking, leaving the car steeped in silence.

Deafening silence. Mustang leaned his head against the window and wished Maes would say something, anything to fill the emptiness. After little over a year and a half of constant battle-noise and anxiety and chatter, the silence was more than a little unnerving. He inhaled deeply and let his breath hiss out through his teeth again.

"You okay?" Maes asked, his voice incredibly soft and concerned.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You going back to your apartment or do you want to get a new place? You could stay with me if you want…"

"No, I'll go back to my old place. I just want to see the office first." Now Maes seemed to understand what Roy wanted, so when they started to fall silent, again, he spoke up.

"So I met this girl, Gracia. She's really sweet, and a great cook, and she doesn't mind me being in the military…you should meet her some time. She's really pretty, too. And we share a lot of the same interests and…" he took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm going to ask her to marry me." Now he had his friend's full attention.

"Really? That's wonderful. When?"

"I…I don't know, yet. I still need to buy a ring. I was wondering if you'd help me pick one out. I mean…I'm new at this – and I know you are too, but still…"

"I know women, Maes, I'm not completely new at this."

"Oh, yes, Roy Mustang the Mustang of Central, Amestris's biggest playboy, huh?" Maes teasingly slapped Roy on the shoulder. "I bet there are bucket-loads of girls just can't **wait** for a chance to get to take a ride on The 'Stang!"

"Shut up, I don't just sleep around…" Roy chuckled. "And don't call me that."

"Oh, would you prefer Royboy?"

"Oh, God, no! Flame will do. Or Major Mustang. Or just Mustang. Or Roy. But **not** the 'Stang or Royboy. Both of those will get you gutted."

"Aw, I like them." Mustang rolled his eyes as they came to a stop at the office. "Oh, and I hear you won't be a Major much longer. They say the Fuhrer himself is insisting on promoting you to Lieutenant Colonel and pronouncing you the Hero of Ishval." Mustang's mood plummeted instantaneously. He forced a chuckle.

"Is that so?" he managed to reply as they got out. "I suppose I should be honored." By the time Maes could see his face again, he'd regained his careful, impassive mask and they headed inside. Many of the faces he saw there were familiar from the war, nameless killers, all looking a little stressed, some surprised to see him and others yet completely vacant. One face he noticed was that of Major Louis Armstrong. He had left due to an injury early on in the war. It was not a secret that the injury had not justified his leaving, but Armstrong was a soft-hearted man despite being built like a freight train. Now the man also known as the Strong Arm Alchemist stared balefully at him, recognizing the look of a hollow, empty killer when he saw one. It was something Maes simply couldn't fathom and was therefore blissfully unaware that his friend had become. A fact for which Roy was infinitesimally grateful.

After Roy got a good feel for the office, Maes took him to his old apartment. The two friends stopped on the doorstep of his place, staring at each other.

"Want me to come in?" Maes asked at length. Roy shook his head.

"I'm just going to crash, I've got the worst jet lag," he replied. Maes nodded sympathetically, patted his arm, and walked off, leaving him to head inside by himself. Roy stared around at the apartment he'd basically forgotten. The old familiarity that he thought he would receive was complete absent. Instead, the place felt foreign, even a little hostile.

Instead of seeing a home he'd once occupied, all he could see were vantage points and escape routes and cover in case of a firefight. He saw potential weapons and weak points and where to hide should he come under attack. He saw vulnerabilities and how dangerous it would be to jump from the window. He noticed where the most dangerous zones to sit or stand were and made a mental note to move chairs and couches out of those areas. He estimated the trajectory of pushing over the bookshelf or throwing a plate across the kitchen. Each room was greeted with the same analysis until he decided he would probably be better off just scrapping the whole place down to it's barest structure and restarting, if he really wanted a secure environment against attack. And no matter of rearranging would help if artillery was involved in the attack – the walls were so thin he could hear his neighbors talking in their apartment.

Forcefully shoving these thoughts from his head, he went to the bathroom, unceremoniously stripped, and turned the water on, not even waiting for it to heat up before getting in. Slowly, the water heated up and he kept turning up until it was almost scalding. Groaning his appreciation, he leaned back his head and combed his fingers through his hair, forcibly relaxing his muscles. Now that he was alone with no distractions, his mind was free to wander over the past year and a half of his life – exactly where he didn't want it to go. This was going to be a harder transition than he'd imagined.

* * *

It had been one week since his return to Central, leaving him in an all-time low. And that's when he saw it. Bright, gold hair and warm, sun-kissed skin. At first, he didn't recognize the teen because he did not wear the military uniform – he was dressed in tight, black leather pants, a black tank top, a red coat, and black boots – but closer inspection proved it was undeniably Edward Elric. Beside him walked a giant suit of armor that only Roy, Edward, and the armor itself knew was empty. For a long moment, the newly appointed Lieutenant Colonel just stared. Then he realized Edward was staring back. His golden gaze was like the first ray of sunlight after a week of endless night. It dully occurred to Roy that he'd missed the boy, though there was no way in Hell he'd admit that to himself or anyone else.

"Hey, Lieutenant Colonel, now, isn't it?" Edward was the first to speak. At some point, he'd crossed the street to stand right in front of Mustang.

"You look awful." That was the truth. The boy was gaunt with dark bags under his eyes. His braid was sloppy with strands poking out. His clothes were mussed and rumpled. He looked as bad as Roy felt.

"Yeah. I just got back in town. I went to get my automail tuned up and my brother insisted on returning with me."

"Ed! Who's this?" the giant suit of armor asked in the voice of a young boy, jogging over to them. Roy scanned it up and down.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist," he introduced himself.

"I'm Alfonse Elric. Ed's my big brother."

"I see." He forced a smile and started towards the office.

"Mr. Mustang," Alfonse called, hurrying to catch up.

"That's Colonel Mustang, please."

"Oh, Colonel Mustang. Can I ask a favor of you?"

"It rarely hurts to ask."

"Will you look after my brother? He's been kind of weird lately. I don't know what's wrong with him. I don't think he's sleeping well, either." Rou chuckled. He knew that feeling. He rarely made it through a night without waking up due to dreams and it took him hours to fight down the guilt and self-loathing enough to fall asleep.

"Well, I won't go out of my way, but sure." Edward caught up with them and followed Roy to work, leaving Alfonse to get them a hotel room for until they found an apartment. They split up at the office without a word. Part of Ed wanted to talk to Roy about the war about the past week, about anything. He wanted to feel close like he had, before. The other part of him wanted to stay as far away from the man as possible. How was he supposed to deal with Mustang, now? How was he supposed to interact with him, knowing what they'd both done in Ishval, knowing the colonel's guilt mirrored his own, if not surpassed it? How was he supposed to look that man in the eyes? He squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to collect himself before going to report for duty at the office of one Colonel Maes Hughes. _Figures I'd get placed under Flame's best friend,_ he thought.

"Hey, you're Fullmetal, right?" the grinning man behind the desk greeted him. "You start work under me today?"

"Yes," Edward replied. "You're Colonel Maes Hughes?"

"I am."

"Flame mentioned you, once." The words slipped out before he could think about them. Somehow, it felt like some confession, causing him to blush a little and look away.

"Flame…oh, you mean Mustang! You know him?"

"We talked a few times in Ishval."

"You went to Ishval? But you're so young…"

"Whatever, anyways. Let's get back to work, shall we?" Maes laughed and dug around in his desk for some files.

"Well, you have his work-ethic, I'm sure he liked that about you."

"I wouldn't know, sir." Maes laughed again and handed him the file that would explain his task. Edward took it idly noticing how much Maes laughed. He could see why Roy liked the man. Everything about him was warm and friendly and comforting. Yet somehow, he got the feeling that just as that warmth had no affect on him, as it would have before Ishval, Roy was experiencing a similar reaction. That grin, that laugh, those gentle eyes…all of them made Edward want to puke. Not because he was disgusted with them. No, it was more like he felt so miserably unworthy of such kindness, such gentleness, such benevolence that just being **near** this man created gross dissonance and caused his stomach to rebel.

He flipped through the file. Bring some murderer in for justice. He took it with him and turned to leave. At least it was something to do. He needed to keep his hands busy. If he let himself get idle for even a minute, he wouldn't be able to keep the images out of his head. _Move forward…that's all we can do. I wonder how Flame's coping…I wonder if he's jumpy at every, little thing, like I am. I wonder if he sits alone at night and wishes with every fiber of his being that someone would just knock him unconscious so he could finally get some sleep. I wonder if he feels like I do…_

* * *

"Hey, Fullmetal…I can't get ahold of Mustang," Maes's worried voice came over the receiver. "He won't answer his door…can you maybe see if you can get him to come out? I mean…can't you…I don't know…force your way in or something?"

"…I'll see what I can do." Edward stood up, hanging up the office phone he'd been using. He spent almost all his time in the office. He now left and headed towards Roy's apartment. He'd walked the colonel home a few times, so he knew where it was, but he'd never been inside. They didn't talk hardly ever, even when they were together, they were usually silent. What was there to say?

Edward knocked on the door. No answer. Of course no answer. He wouldn't have answered the door, if someone had come to visit him in his hotel room. He knocked again, just to be sure. Then, he clapped his hands together and pressed them to the door. The lock clicked open and the door swung inwards. The apartment was dark…and a mess. Papers and books were strewn all over the place. The shades were closed. How long had Roy been locked up in here?

"Flame?" Edward called hesitantly. Silence. His eyes adjusted and he finally was able to make out the colonel's figure, sitting on his knees on the floor. In his hand was a pistol, which was now pressed to his jaw, his finger trembling on the trigger. For a moment, Edward was frozen, then his body burst into motion. Lunging forward, he grabbed the gun from the older man's hand and flung it from him like it had burned him. "Flame!" he gasped. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Empty, emotionless eyes turned to meet his. _Oh, God, I left him alone too long,_ Edward realized.

"How do you do it, Fullmetal? How do you live?" Roy croaked brokenly. Tearstains traced lines down his cheeks, his eyes were red from crying, his face was gaunt and pale, his hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled and mussed.

"I live because there's no other choice! Pulling that trigger never was an option for you, soldier!" Edward snapped, realizing that no amount of tender affection would reach this man. He would beat sense into Roy – literally if need be. He slapped him as hard as he could, almost knocking the older man to the ground. "You can be anything you want, Flame, but you will not be a weak, pathetic coward who runs away!" Mustang seemed to jolt back to reality, his eyes widening.

"Fullmetal," he murmured. And the next thing the boy knew, the older man had yanked him into a fierce hug and was crying into his shoulder. "How do you do it?!" he demanded. Edward gentled, threading his hand through the colonel's hair.

"I find a reason to live…and I dedicate myself to that goal so that nothing else matters. For me, it's getting my brother's body back. You aren't limited by such a small goal though, Flame. You told me, already…why you're in the army. What your goal in life is. You're going to change this country. And to do that, you need to make your way to the top. And I'll support you…every step of the way, because, Flame…I don't believe there would be a single better man for this country than you. So hurry up and get there, okay, Fuhrer Mustang?" Roy didn't have the voice to answer, so he just nodded into Edward's chest. "I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

"I should've checked on you sooner. I should've been there. We both knew it would be like this…when we came back." Mustang nodded, his little bout of crying finished. He sat up and wiped his eyes.

"Thank you, Fullmetal. I needed that." He rubbed his cheek ruefully. "Though you didn't have to use the automail hand, did you?" They stood up only to fall back into another embrace when they were both silent for too long.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" Edward asked. The only reply was a shrug, so he disentangled himself and went to the kitchen to warm up some left overs he found in the fridge. They cleared a space on the floor and ate dinner together, neither one quite sure what to say but feeling the pressing need to say something mounting with each moment of silence.

"Hughes called you to come here?" Roy asked at last.

"Yeah," Edward replied with a small smile. "He's a good friend."

"He is."

"Do you remember that guy – Kimblee…from Ishval?"

"Salf J. Kimblee…the Red Lotus Alchemist. What about him?"

"He blew up some military base and killed a bunch of officers. They're putting out a warrant for him. Permission to use lethal force."

"He was always a little…overzealous. He killed because he liked exerting his will over other people."

"But he was right…that we can't turn away from what we did. I thought I could put it behind me and just move on but maybe…that's not what needs to happen. Maybe we need to own what we did, own our guilt…and spend our lives bettering the world as recompense. Can we really presume to just…ignore what we did."

"It's a fine line between moving on and ignoring. I agree we shouldn't forget it – that we should spend our lives repaying for what we did, but we also can't…linger too hard on it. We did what we did and regretting…will get us nowhere."

"Do you think it's alright to talk about it…if it's just us?" That made Roy pause. He honestly didn't know the answer to that. Was it okay to just talk about what they did? Would it do any good to talk about it? Would it do any harm? It could desensitize them to what they did…or do the opposite and drive them into depression, cause them to obsess. Then again, the alternative hadn't worked out too well, either.

"Yeah…it's okay, Fullmetal. It's okay to talk about it."

"You know, I never told my brother."

"I didn't think you would…could."

"Should I?"

"No. He shouldn't have to bear that." Edward nodded his agreement. "I never gave Maes the specifics – I never told him my daily counts or talked about the war…ever with him. It wouldn't be fair to him." Edward scooted a little closer to Roy until he could lean his head on his shoulder. "Thirty-two-thousand four hundred and six…in the end."

"That's…a lot."

"I wrote down…daily. I have a notebook and in the middle are these pages of just lists of my daily count. I added them all up and that's the final count – well, my best estimate. I guess I can't really know for sure. And that's not including the people that died indirectly because of the war – injuries or starvation or disease…" Edward sat up, grabbed Mustang's head by his hair, and pulled it down into his lap, combing his fingers through those ebony locks soothingly.

"You'll probably have to kill more people – people that may or may not be worthy of killing – at least indirectly."

"I know."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Somehow…it doesn't feel so bad…when you're nice to me…as when other people are."

"I know…it's because I know you, Flame. I know what you've done…who you are…I have seen your soul, your suffering, your weakness…and you've seen mine."

"And that makes it okay?"

"Yes." Mustang closed his eyes and let the doubts sink into the back of his mind, allowing himself just this moment to relish being cared for. It was nice to lean on someone at long last. The war had destroyed his ability to trust. It was a relief to have that back, even if it was only one, seventeen-year-old boy. He would bask in the warmth and light of that boy's gaze as long as he feasibly could.


End file.
